


I Watched You Disappear

by OkamiShadou98



Series: Lucifer One-shots [4]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Deckerstar - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heaven, Lucifer's in denial, dying of old age, seriously lot's of tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24229435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkamiShadou98/pseuds/OkamiShadou98
Summary: Chloe's aging and Lucifer just wants to pretend that everything's going to be okay for a bit longer. Tracing Deckerstar's later years up until the end (and then some).
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Lucifer One-shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673098
Comments: 70
Kudos: 285





	I Watched You Disappear

**Author's Note:**

> I warn you all, this one is painful. I don't usually cry when I write but this one had me sobbing. Totally unedited because I can't handle reading this again so I apologize for any mistakes you find.
> 
> I hope you enjoy and there is a happy ending!

He could recall, with the perfect clarity all celestials possess, the day Chloe showed him her first grey hair. The solitary strand had sparkled, pure as his own feathers, and he’d caressed it gently, telling her how beautiful she was even as she cried silently. A part of him knew what the hair represented but he’d pushed that aside, refusing to ever think about the inevitable end which stalked them. So, he’d wiped away her tears and cooked dinner, all the while smiling and laughing with all the bravado he could manage. 

One silver hair became two. Then three. And before long, Chloe’s ponytail was streaked through with a grey-scale rainbow.

Sometimes he would catch her staring at his own hair, at the dark pieces which were just as they’d been fifteen years prior. And in those moments her face would crumble, eyes glistening with a heartache he could not fix, try as he might. 

He was always quick to redirect her focus to something, anything, else even as his own heart tore with the weight of her pain and fear. The edges scorched him in a way that stole his breath and he broke knowing what he felt was only a sample of what Chloe was going through. He never let her see the tears or hear the sobs though, saving them for moments when he was alone in the shower. 

One of them had to be strong.

He did make changes however. A hairdresser owed him a favor from years ago and he had the woman dye a few simple elegant white streaks into his hair. The effect wasn’t perfect but at least it was something. He’d gone home that first night, eager to show Chloe what he’d come up with. Upon seeing him though, she’d burst into tears and locked herself in the bathroom. He spent that night leaning against the door, listening to her cry and hating himself for doing this to her. 

Even if Chloe wasn’t a fan of him dying his hair, he maintained the style, if only to save her from the judgmental looks they received otherwise when they were in public together. She put on a brave face but Lucifer knew every not so subtle comment about their age gap hurt her, a constant reminder that what they had was tempor-

No, he wouldn’t go there.

For a while after that, things settled. He got better at ignoring the signs, the safety net of obliviousness the only thing which kept him from tearing apart. They made it through promotions and their subsequent retirement from the LAPD. Trixie got married and started her own family. They moved to a house without stairs as Chloe developed arthritis from a knee injury that only ever seemed to get worse regardless of the medication the doctors insisted on.

Through it all, they laughed and smiled and loved. He spent less and less time at Lux, preferring evenings home where he would play the piano and Chloe would sit on the couch to read. The tears stopped, along with it the suffocating feeling of finality. 

They took vacations, touring the world. He thought he had seen everything Earth had to offer but every sight was new with Chloe by his side. They went through his history as he showed her the places he’d been, the things he’d done, on previous visits to Earth. Their house accumulated odds and ends from all over the world. A necklace from India. A teapot from Ireland. Whatever she wanted, he would buy it without hesitation, waving off concerns about money. 

He didn’t immediately notice when the trips tapered off, when Chloe’s arthritis made flying in a plane a burden and even long walks on the beach seemed to tire her. They spent more and more time at home, only venturing beyond LA during holidays. Sometimes, she would press him to go out on his own for a bit, fearful she was trapping him somehow. He always refused. Wherever she was, that was where he wanted to be. 

Time passed, people died, and Lucifer paid all of it very little mind. He sold Lux, recuperating a small fortune, which was fortunate, as that was right about the first time Chloe went to the hospital…

It was ‘just pneumonia’, as the doctors so glibly said. For Lucifer, it might well have been the Bubonic Plague. Chloe spent weeks in the hospital, almost requiring a ventilator, and all the while growing thinner and thinner. He spent all of his time by her bedside, reading to her or simply holding her hand. Sometimes she was lucid and then they would talk but more often than not, she would sleep, leaving him to count each rattling breath she struggled for.

When Chloe was cleared and sent home, things changed dramatically. She was left frail by the virus, spending a great deal of time relaxing. Lucifer didn’t mind taking over most of the chores. He had been steadily taking on more and more as time passed but now he was all in - cooking, cleaning, paying the bills, making appointments. 

Doctor visits became more frequent, the pill bottles kept in the kitchen cabinet overflowing onto the counter. Soon, Lucifer had trouble keeping track of the medication, of symptoms and restrictions. He pinned a list to the fridge, a cold and clinical spreadsheet. His stomach sank every time he walked by it, reminded of a time not so long ago when Trixie’s artwork had been there instead. 

More people died, funerals piling up, and Lucifer found that the fact he didn’t show signs of aging meant he could no longer attend the wakes of his friends. He went to Linda’s, as no one from her social circle knew him, but he was forced to skip Daniel’s. 

That one in particular was agonizing. If carb skipping, gym rat Dan could die, then Chloe could too. 

He began to consume himself with her health, reading medical books and making notes while she dozed. Trixie visited more after the death of her father, sometimes with her litter of children, sometimes without. Lucifer didn’t mind the company, eager to have something drive away his uncertainty and fear, especially now that Amenadiel had left for Heaven to stay with Linda. Chloe was brighter on those days too, a blessing. She would sometimes manage the entire day walking around without tiring.

At night, Lucifer was careful to not hurt her, holding himself completely still while she slept soundly beside him. Her skin, all spider webbing wrinkles, felt paper thin and he feared that so much as a touch would crush her. 

He stopped sleeping, hardly ate, a blind terror rising beneath his breast with every passing day. If Chloe saw it, she never mentioned it, though that may have had more to do with her developing cataracts than anything else. 

By this point, Chloe was nearing her seventy-fifth birthday. She used a walker more often than not, seldom leaving the house. Every winter brought respiratory infections from which she took longer and longer to recover. During the summer, she insisted on sitting outside, eyes closed and head turned towards the sun as if she feared she would never again get to experience such a thing. He would do yard work those days, a newly acquired interest of his. Chloe loved flowers, so he planted a garden which took up a good portion of the backyard, caring for the plants as if each were an infant.

Trixie’s visits tapered off again, her own age making it impractical for her to brave the three hour drive too often. When she did come over, now alone as her children started college, she often voiced concern about Lucifer. Apparently, he was getting more haggard, though he hadn’t noticed a change. Was his face thinner? Perhaps but that had more to do with the fact Chloe had so many dietary restrictions now. The dark bags under his eyes? Irritation, no doubt, from all the pollen in the garden. The fact he could hardly even smile anymore? He had no idea where that came from, as he was happy. So happy in fact, he thought it might kill him…

The end, when it came, was slow and brutal. He had been playing the piano, Chloe perched beside them as they conversed about some old case (she had forgotten the names of most of their co-workers but he didn’t correct her, just nodding along) when suddenly she had clasped her chest and slumped over.

He tried to rouse her, frantically calling for an ambulance, and once again he found himself sitting helplessly at her bedside in the hospital. This time though, Chloe never regained consciousness and there were no discussions about treatment options.

The doctors told him things, shoved forms under his nose which he refused to sign. A DNR order? No, no Chloe wouldn’t want that surely. They’d never discussed it at least. And besides, they wouldn’t need one. Because she was going to get better. Maybe it would take longer than last time, but it would happen. 

She always got better.

Chloe was moved to a nursing home specializing in hospice care, though Lucifer thought the doctors were being hasty in their judgement. After all, she had only been in the hospital for two weeks, she could still get better.

She would get better.

The nursing home wasn’t terrible. An additional bed was set up in the room for Lucifer once it became apparent he had no intention of leaving, though Chloe never regained consciousness. Nurses came to check on him every morning and evening, keeping him appraised of Chloe’s vitals and other information. He seldom asked questions. When the head doctor came in and spoke, Lucifer’s head would go fuzzy, vision tunneling as he tuned the man out. He knew the doctor meant well but the man didn’t know his Detective.

She was going to get better.

It was frantic motion which awoke him one night. Sitting up, the thin hospital blanket falling into his lap, he looked around the room wildly. Doctors and nurses were grouped around Chloe’s bed, talking over one another as they wheeled in some machine. He stumbled out of bed, shouldering someone out of the way to see what was going on.

And then, the movement stopped, the doctors parting for him like the Red Sea. The heart monitor was making a continuous wail, the line eerily flat. He knew what that meant, had seen it a thousand times on trashy hospital shows.

Panic seized him, jolting through his body like a spark.

“Do something!” he shouted, his brain and heart slamming into each other as he was hit with both the cold logic of the situation and the emotional devastation.

“Mr. Morningstar-” Someone reached for him but he jerked away.

Why weren’t they doing something? She needed help!

“Why are you standing around?” He turned wildly, ignoring the pained looks. “Help her!”

“Time of death,” a young man started to say quietly.

Lucifer whirled on him, gripping the front of the man’s white coat and hauling him forwards. Instantly, arms were around his shoulders and chest, trying to restrain him. He shook them off and then people were yelling things.

He wasn’t listening though, focused on the man in his grasp. “Don’t you dare say it! She isn’t dead!”

More hands were on him, pulling and shoving. His clothes ripped from the treatment but he remained immobile. He looked to where Chloe was laying, perfectly still. 

The heart monitor continued to flat line. 

And then he was sobbing hysterically, tears bursting forth and wetting his face. His legs gave out and he collapsed onto his knees, releasing the doctor he’d grabbed. 

“Please, help her,” he begged, shaking so hard his teeth rattled. “Please.”

The hands on his shoulders released him and he bowed forwards until his palms were braced on the floor. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

It wasn’t. 

No. 

No.

No.

Nonononononononononono

People were talking again, but quieter. Someone crouched beside him and he shoved himself away, clamoring back to his feet. His vision was blurred, his throat convulsing around agonized howls he was dimly aware were his own.

Staggering to the bed, he collided hard with something or other, fumbling until he found one of Chloe’s hands.

She was cooler than he remembered.

“No, no yo-you need to w-wake up. Please, w-w-wake up.” He tried to inhale but something wasn’t letting his lungs expand properly. “We didn’t get to-to say goodbye.”

She was gone, far away in Heaven. And he’d never see her again.

“I love you!” He bursted out, tears falling so fast and heavy he thought he was going to drown. “Chloe, I love you.”

Could she hear him? Please, Dad, let her hear him. 

Devices were turned off, the infernal hum of the heart monitor silenced, until all that remained was his gasping, pained breaths. 

It was a long time before the sobs died off, even longer before he released her hand. Once, long ago, he had told Chloe he didn’t understand why humans cried over bodies after the soul had left. Now he knew.

Orderlies came in, transferring her body to a gurney. At first, he wouldn’t let them near her but the will to fight left him quickly, body and mind too hurt, in too much pain. So, he simply trailed after them as they wheeled her away. The two men gave him nervous looks but he was quite docile.

Wherever she was going, that was where he would go too.

He silently boarded the elevator with them, hands clasped behind his back. The outdated walls were covered with mirrors and he looked curiously at the reflection staring back at him.

Sunken red eyes watched from a pale, tear tracked face. Dark hair, streaked with white, was unkempt and starting to curl. He cocked his head, the reflection following suit. Tears were welling in those brown eyes, though it was difficult for him to make out as his own sight was growing rather fuzzy…

The elevator chimed and the gurney was wheeled out into a narrow hallway. Lucifer followed, sparing one last look at the reflection. They, the man in the mirror, looked utterly broken.

Double doors were just up ahead and the two orderlies finally seemed to tire of him once they reached them. One of them said something but Lucifer had become very skilled at tuning people out in the past month. A sign just above the door caught his attention.

The faded block letters read ‘MORGUE’

And that was it, some last bit of his brain not currently screaming with grief, finally understood that Chloe, his Chloe, was well and truly gone.

He turned, an abrupt one eighty, and walked back towards the elevator. He rode to the main floor, striding through the building. People called to him, appearing on his peripherals before sliding away.

The door to outside appeared before him and he shoved it open, the sunlight hitting him full force. How long since he’d last been outside? Three week? Four?

Unbidden, his wings unfurled and he took flight, some other instinct driving him. He shot upwards, climbing higher and higher. The air thinned rapidly and he took deeper breaths to compensate. 

He never felt as he crossed dimensions, when he left Earth behind for Heaven. One moment he had been shooting past clouds and the next, he was in the other-space.

He’d never done this before, knowing the Silver Gates would be shut to him. Besides, after the Fall, Heaven hadn’t had anything he’d wanted. Not anymore.

The gates, nearly blinding to eyes which had been deprived of divinity for so long, filled his vision as he nearly pelted headfirst into them. He checked himself at the last minute, landing awkwardly, momentum carrying him forwards until he was toe to toe with the gates.

Somewhere beyond, Chloe was there, that much he knew. She would never go to Hell, even if she’d begged for it. Not her.

He stood there, waiting. For what? He wasn’t altogether sure. But if this was where Chloe was, then this was where he would be too. Even if he could never enter Heaven, he would stay right here, just beyond the gates.

He tried to be content with just that, knowing it was all he would get, but after three days, he grew restless. She was so close and he needed to see her, if only for a moment, hold her one last time and say goodbye. She deserved that. After everything they’d gone through, she deserved a proper goodbye.

He was contemplating how to break down the gates without getting himself immediately incinerated by his father when they swung open all on their own, a familiar figure in dark robes walking out.

“So it’s true.”

Lucifer didn’t look up from where he’d been standing, looking out far into the cosmos. “Hello, Amenadiel.”

His brother came up beside him and the two of them looked at the stars. “When I heard, I didn’t want to believe it.”

Lucifer chewed the inside of his mouth, scanning for one star in particular. It was one of the first one’s he’d made, not as big or vibrant as some of the later ones, but special all the same. He couldn’t find it though. Had it died while he was away? That didn’t seem fair.

“You know, your name comes up an awful lot in the Silver City,” Amenadiel said softly.

“Oh?” Lucifer continued looking before admitting defeat. His little star was gone.

“Apparently when Charlotte died, she spoke very highly of you. Our siblings were horrified,” Amenadiel chuckled. “And just when they were getting over that, Linda, Ella, and Daniel show up, all praising the Devil.”

He couldn’t help it, he huffed. The first laugh in Dad knew how long. “I’m surprised Michael didn’t protest them being in Heaven, what with their sympathy for the Devil attitude.”

“He did actually, though it didn’t go anywhere. Though the four of them didn’t cause nearly as much of an uproar as Chloe.”

Lucifer’s throat closed just hearing her name, stomach writhing. “Is she… is she okay?” he managed.

Amenadiel nodded. “I suppose okay is a word for it. Actually, she managed to launch Silver City into complete chaos. You see,” he grabbed Lucifer's arm, “no sooner had Azrael brought her that she began demanding an audience with Father, all on your behalf I might add.”

“She always did say she was going to have a strong talk with Dad.” He tried to laugh, or even smile, but instead his eyes stung with tears. 

“And she did. I had no idea she knew such colorful language.” Amenadiel’s grip tightened. “She complained about how you’d been treated and I’ve never seen Father lost for words before but she managed it.”

Lucifer was crying openly now, the raw wound that was his chest cut open again. He could imagine her standing, hands on her hips as she reprimanded God himself. He would chew off his right leg to have her scream at him if only to just hear her voice one last time.

Amenadiel gave him a sympathetic look. “I thought Father was going to smite her for being so, well, like you.”

“Dad never has done well with constructive criticism.”

“No, no he hasn’t.” Amenadiel glanced over his shoulder. “And he doesn’t usually admit when he’s wrong. But sometimes…” he trailed off.

“Sometimes what, Brother?” Lucifer asked, taking a deep breath as he tried to stem his tears.

And small, familiar hands wrapped around him from behind. “Well, sometimes, people can surprise you.”

He froze, that all so familiar voice, the one which had laughed and cried with him a hundred times over the past forty years, awakening a desperate yearning. Carefully, he turned, terrified that this was only a dream and he would shatter it by moving too fast.

Even if it was only a dream, the moment he saw those familiar blue eyes, bright and clear, he was lost to them. 

“Chloe,” he mumbled, wrapping his own arms around her tightly, burying his nose in her now blonde hair. She looked exactly as she had the first day they’d met, two or three lifetimes ago.

“Hey,” she reached up, cupping the back of his head. “I’m sorry.”

“N-no, I am. I knew this would happen but I was too selfish. I c-couldn’t walk away.” Hot tears splashed onto her hair and he inhaled massive gulps of air, wanting to remember the way she smelled forever.

“I’m glad you didn’t. Lucifer, it was perfect.”

“No it wasn’t.” He was shaking again. “I tried so ha-hard but i-it was-wasn’t.”

She drew back, only to clasp his face with both her hands, forcing him to look at her. “Yeah, it was. Are there some days I wish I could take back? Oh yeah. But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Her own eyes filled with tears. “And I’m so sorry I left you alone.”

“Don’t apologize, it wasn’t your choice.” He turned his head, kissing her palm, mapping her skin.

“Which is why the first thing I did after the whole intro speech thing was ask your dad to let you come back.”

“You… what?” He was dumbfounded.

Amenadiel, who had watched things unfold silently, nodded. “It’s true. She said the only way Dad could ever make things up with you was letting you come back, if you wished.”

“I know it’s not ideal,” she bit her lip. “But it was the only thing I could think of-”

“Really?” Lucifer looked between them, refusing to let hope take over. If this all turned out to be some joke, it would kill him. His body wouldn’t be able to take it.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Amenadiel gestured towards where the Silver Gates were still open.

Chloe smiled, taking his hand in her’s. “Come home.”

He looked down at their intertwined fingers, her skin a few shades lighter than his own. “I already am. Wherever you are, that’s home.”

And together the two of them approached the gate, Lucifer forcing himself to not stop. He couldn’t help but fear what would happen when he crossed the threshold. Would he be destroyed? Would Michael attack?

Chloe’s hand steadied him. She’d always steadied him though, a grounding force he could rely on.

Together, they took the final step, crossing into Heaven.

He looked back uncertainly to Amenadiel but his brother just shrugged good naturedly and he turned forward again, treading a path he had all but forgotten. 

The Silver City itself was far ahead of them but Lucifer was in no hurry to enter the city itself. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find, if his siblings would shun him or if his Father would ever apologize. None of that mattered though, so long as he had Chloe.

“Oh man, having Lucifer around is not my idea of Heaven!”

Lucifer jerked at the voice, half expecting to fight, only to find Daniel Espinoza grinning at him. Beside him, Charlotte was standing, their arms linked. Rapidly approaching from further on was Ella, who was dragging along Azrael and Linda.

Chloe’s hand squeezed his gently. “Everyone’s been waiting for you.”

He looked to her wordlessly, not able to convey the emotion swelling in his chest.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to speak. Chloe had always known exactly what he was going to say.

“I know,” she said gently. “I know.”

And hand in hand they strolled to where their friends were waiting for them.

**Author's Note:**

> See? Happy. Or as happy as it can be under the circumstances.


End file.
